Safe in the Arms of Love
by Ms.Myers
Summary: Kimberly Murrel was a depressed sixyearold girl. But by a chance encounter with a person that is more like her than she knows,she might fine love. But can it withstand the moutainous obstacles?


A couple of the usual popular girls gave me a disgusted look and I hung my head lower. It was like this everyday, I would walk to school and walk home from school and receive disgusted and nasty looks that told me I wouldn't be missed if I failed to ever show up again.

I felt the hotness of tears starting to sting my eyes and I quickly blinked them away. I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of knowing they hurt me enough to make me cry. It was enough confusion and frustration to kill a person. I had never done anything to them - but just the fact that I was still breathing made them hate me.

Upon staring at the sidewalk instead of looking where I was going, I bumped into someone and fell backward onto to concrete. The person turned around; it was a boy I knew by sight, not personally. He was maybe an inch taller than me, had blonde hair, and dark brown eyes. He lived a couple houses down and across the street on my road. I thought his name was Michael, but I wasn't one hundred percent sure.

Before either of us could say anything, I heard footsteps behind me. I knew it was one of the bullies, who lived near me, come to harass me on the way home. I quickly scrambled to my feet and rushed past Michael without a word of apology, running to get away from whoever it was.

When I looked over my shoulder to see who it was, I stopped dead in my tracks. It was someone who usually bullied me, but instead he stopped to pick on Michael. I continued standing there, wondering what I should do. They were slowly making their way to where I stood. The boy was calling Michael names, who was merely staring down at the sidewalk like I had, trying to ignore everything the boy was saying.

"Leave him alone, Alden!" I shouted. I was shocked that I had yelled at him, I normally was the one who kept quiet. Michael and Alden both looked up at me. Michael was giving me a look I couldn't quite read, while Alden was giving me the usual look full of hate.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Alden sneered.

"Get lost, idiot!" I yelled. At most ages, that wouldn't have fazed anyone. But at our young age, words such as idiot had a powerful effect.

Alden looked murderous, but quickened his pace, meaning he was going to pass us up and leave us alone for now. When he passed me, he deliberately knocked into my shoulder with his shoulder.

"Why did you do that?" Michael asked, catching up to me. I shrugged and dropped my gaze back to the sidewalk, hanging my head and allowing my brown hair to cascade around my face and hide it.

"Your name's Michael, right?" I asked, glancing up at him with my crystal blue eyes. He nodded and I returned my gaze to the sidewalk. I paused for a moment. "My name's Kimberly, but most call me Kim." I glanced back up at him, but he remained silent. I dropped my gaze again, my will for life dropping another notch. "I don't blame you for not talking to me... Anyone seen with me would be made fun of for life."

"I think you're nice," Michael replied bluntly. The familiar hot sensation of tears stung at my eyes again, and I blinked rapidly to get rid of it. It hurt just as bad for someone to pretend that they liked me rather than coming right out and saying it.

"Don't say that. You don't have to pretend, no one around here cares if I go out and get killed or not," I said bitterly. I knew it was extreme for a six-year-old to be saying that, but I meant it. I knew no one gave a damn about me, and I wasn't afraid to tell anyone.

No one like Michael would ever befriend someone like me. I could tell he was far better off than me. For one, he wasn't always looking down at the ground like I did; he only did that when someone was bullying him. And that was something else, he couldn't have been bullied half as much as I was, for there was always _someone_ there to bring me down. For another, he had parents who obviously loved him - unlike mine. I basically had no father, and my mother was almost never home. But I saw Michael's parents' car at his house most of the time, when I went on my walks by myself.

"No, you're pretty nice, I like you," Michael replied in his same plain manner. I sighed quietly and decided to play along. Hey, if he insisted to pretend to be my friend, I had nothing better to do.

"Thanks, you're nice too," I replied, giving him a nervous smile to mask the pain. After that, we continued home in silence. We reached his house first, where I offered a quiet "good-bye", which he returned with a wave.

When I got home to my house, I wasn't surprised to see that my mom wasn't home. I went around back and shuddered. My mom left the house after I left for school, and she would lock all the doors except for the basement doors. I didn't like the basement; it was creepy and half the time the light didn't work.

I opened the door and stuck my arm in, looking away from the darkness. I felt around for the light switch, and when I found it, I turned it on. I rushed through the basement and ran up the stairs, slamming the door behind me as my heart went ninety miles an hour.

After a couple moments, I ran upstairs into my room, slinging my book bag into the corner. I sat down on my bed and picked up Ms.Kitty, my stuffed cat, and held it to my chest. I blinked and felt a tear tumble down my cheek, marking the beginning of the many tears that were to follow. I cried a good hour before I could finally stop. I sat Ms.Kitty down and looked through my book bag, pulling out my jacket.

I put it on and went back downstairs, planning to just walk around. In some ways more than others, I was mature for my age. A lot of kids my age would get bored walking. I didn't.

I reached up and unlocked the front door, opened it, and then closed it behind me. I descended the stops carefully, walked down the walkway, and turned and began strolling down the street. I kept my head down low and stared at the ground. I allowed my hair to create that thin barrier between me and the world around me, not noticing the concerned look Michael's mother was giving me as I continued down the street.

When I reached the end of the street, I sat down on the curb. I put my elbows on my knees and put my head in my hands, staring blankly across the street. A few minutes later, though, I sensed someone near me and looked around; it was Michael.

"Wanna come over to my house and play?" he offered. I nodded in agreement and stood up, following him. When we got to his house, three people were out in his front yard. One was a woman, whom I guessed to be his mother; another was a little toddler that I assumed was his younger sister; and I presumed the older girl was his sister as well.

"Who's your friend, Michael?" his mom asked, smiling warmly at me.

"That's Kim. She lives a few houses down form us," Michael replied. I hung my head under his mother's gaze and stared at the ground again.

"Does your mother know that you're over here?" his mother asked.

"She's not home, but she doesn't care what I do," I replied, hanging my head even lower. She frowned at this. Many of the adults compared me to a dog - not in a rude way, though. I'd always hear them say 'If you can picture a brown puppy with blue eyes lost in a gutter, that's been kicked too many times and with its tail tucked between its legs, you'll have Kimberly.' And truthfully, I thought the analogy fit me perfectly, especially right about now.

"You mean she doesn't care where you are or what you do?" she asked. I shook my head. "Are you okay, Kim?" Now how was I supposed to answer that? Tell her no, that no one in this world gave a rat's ass about me and that I'd rather not be alive? No, of course not. So, I lied.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied quietly.

"Are you sure? You look like something's troubling you." I shook my head, looking at Michael with pleading eyes to not say anything. But his face remained expressionless and he thankfully didn't say a word.

After that, his mother left me alone and allowed us to play. We played tag, and even Michael's older sister joined in. But ten minutes later, when I saw a black SUV pull into my driveway, I stopped dead in my tracks.

My rare smile vanished and I looked over my shoulder, to find Michael watching me curiously. "I gotta go, my mom's home."

"Bye Kim!" he called. I said goodbye as well, before starting back home, my head hung low.

The next day I skipped school. My mother had told me she wasn't going to be there for the weekend - until Monday - but she wouldn't have cared anyway. Instead, I walked to the playground near the center of town. I crawled into one of the little tubes and sat there, reliving what my mother had said to me. She'd seen me playing with Michael - and apparently, she didn't like it.

_As soon as I'd stepped into the living room, she started on me. "What do you think you were doing over there?" I didn't answer, and looked down at the blue carpet. "Look at me, you pathetic excuse for a child!" she yelled. I flinched and looked at her, but not meeting her gaze._

_"Now, answer me!" I shrugged, knowing that if I even tried to explain she'd shoot me down. "That's not an answer! Tell me why you were over there!"_

_"M-michael asked me if I wanted to p-play," I replied in a small quiet voice, shifting my feet uneasily._

_"Well, do you want to know why he did that? It's because he pitied you! It's because he felt sorry for you because you're so stupid and horrible! You're such a disgrace, I'm ashamed to be your mother!" she shouted. By this time I was slightly cowering and trembling. My vision was blurry and I knew the tears would soon fall; I was so confused and hurt. What had I done to deserve this?_

I came back to reality when a car backfired. I found that I was rocking myself and crying. I drew my knees up to my chest and continued to cry and rock myself. I continued to think what I had thought last night, sitting on my bed and hugging Ms.Kitty and rocking myself: What did I do to deserve this? Was it really so wrong that I had been happy? Was it really so bad for me to have tried to make a friend? The only possible answer I could come up with was yes.

Apparently I didn't deserve to be happy, and I didn't deserve to possibly make a friend. But I did deserve this. _I do deserve this_ I told myself firmly. _I deserve all this, because I did something really bad to deserve this. I deserve for the kids at school to pick on me. I deserve to have my mommy yell at me and tell me she hates me. She isn't doing anything wrong; she's just telling me the truth. I am ugly! I am stupid! And I deserve all of this!_

But the more I told myself this, the harder I cried. One question still remained. What? What did I do that was so horrible, so vile, that it made my mom scream that she hated me every day? And could I repay for whatever I had done? And if so, what could I do to redeem myself?

When I finally decided to go home, it was dark. I walked home quickly, scared of the dark like most small kids. When I approached my street, I saw flashing lights. It sparked my curiosity so I quickened my pace. When I started down my street, I saw some police cars at Michael's house.

I passed my house, my curiosity getting the better of me, and continued to Michaels house. When I got there, I saw Michael sitting alone in a police car, sitting unnervingly still in a police car, wearing a clown suit that was dotted with blood.

"Michael, are you okay? What happened?" I asked, looking through the rolled-down window. He did not answer me nor even acknowledge that I existed, and I knew what my mother had said was true - he had only talked to be because he felt sorry for me. But I didn't want to believe it.

"Hey you get away from there! shouted a cop, spotting me. He started toward me, but I ignored him.

"C'mon Michael, what happened? You can tell me, it can't be any worse than what happens to me. Please?" I was practically begging him now. I so desperately wanted to prove my mother wrong, to tell her that I really had a friend.

"I thought I told you not to mess around there?" the police man asked me in a stern voice, putting his hands on my shoulders and turning me around.

"But, he's my friend," I protested in a quiet voice, avoiding his gaze. At that, Michael turned his head to look at me. A tiny ray of hope shone for me, but it quickly died as he noticed the police officer and returned to stare out the window.

"Listen, I'm sorry little miss. But Michael isn't going to be back. He did something very bad, and he has to go away for it... What are you doing out here this late, anyway? Shouldn't you be home?" the cop asked suspiciously.

"I - I heard the sirens and woke up. I snuck out of the house without waking my mom up, I wanted to know what was going on," I lied.

"Well, you need to go on home, get back to bed. Say your goodbye now, I don't think you'll be seeing your friend again," the policeman replied. I nodded and turned back to the window.

"Bye, Michael. I don't know if I'm your friend, but you're my friend. I wish you didn't have to go... you were my only friend. I'll miss you," I told him quietly. The officer watched me go to the house, making sure I didn't slip off to anywhere.

Tears flooded my eyes and rolled down my cheeks when I got inside my dark house. I sobbed loudly, reached up, and turned on the lights. I went straight into the living room and scrambled onto the white couch, holding Ms.Kitty tightly.

"Mom was right, I wasn't his friend. If I was, he would have told me 'bye," I told Ms.Kitty. "Why did he have to do that?" I sobbed.

On Monday morning, I planned to skip school permanently. I left the house earlier than usual, but this time I carried Ms.Kitty with me. I wanted her to be there when it happened. I walked toward downtown, something telling me that there would be more cars there with drivers that didn't pay much attention.

I picked a busy intersection and stood there; waiting for the little sign to show that it wasn't safe to walk. Unfortunately, a woman around her late thirties had walked up behind me. I chose a car that was coming down the street pretty quickly; but as I walked into the car's way, the woman behind me suddenly darted over to me. She grabbed me, but the driver looked up from whatever and swerved - right into the other side of the street. Several cars were involved in the wreck, and even once when the woman was trying to keep myself and herself out of the way, a car actually hit my arm a certain way, causing a large gash starting at my shoulder and ending at my elbow. The weird thing was, it didn't hurt.

The woman immediately called 9-1-1 after the cars had finished running into each other. In no time, several cops and about three ambulances showed up. They took me and the woman in the same ambulance, thinking she was my guardian.

"What happened?" asked one of the women, a redhead, as the other woman, a brunette, inserted an IV into my arm.

"Well," the lady who had stopped my suicidal act began, "I was walking to work and this little girl -"

"You mean she's not yours?" interrupted the woman putting the tube in my arm.

"No, never seen her in my life. I was just walking to work and this one here was standing on the sidewalk at the intersection. I was curious why she wasn't at school. As soon as that car came down the road doing, it seemed like ninety, she just stepped right out in front of it. I tried to grab her and move her out of the way, but in all the heck that happened to her arm," the blonde lady who had saved me finished, nodding at my arm.

"So she just didn't see the car and-"

"No, I'm sure she saw it," the blonde woman replied, talking as though I was not in the same ambulance. "I saw her look straight at it before walking in front of it."

"Okay," the woman with brown hair said, grabbing a clip board. "It says here that would be filed under attempted suicide."

The red head sighed. "There's another young one for the mental institute. I don't know what kids problems are these days," she said, shaking her head. There was a slightly awkward pause before the brunette broke it.

"Hi, my name is Jenna Stimes," she said in a motherly way to me, "this is Missy Rimes," Jenna said, pointing to the redhead. "Can you tell me where you live?" I remained silent, staring out the small ambulance window as the scenery rushed by on either side and as the siren wailed. "Do you know your address, or phone number?" I remained mute, but she pressed on. "Can you tell us your mommy's name?"

"Can you tell us your name?" the blonde tried. But I still didn't answer.

"She shows signs of emotional abuse... I think she's mute because she doesnt want to go back home, not because she really is. Half of suicidal attempts are because the person was abused somehow. She doesn't show signs of physical abuse," Missy said.

"Yes, but that Michael Myers kid wasn't abused in any way, shape, or form and look what he did," Jenna said darkly. At that, I tore my gaze away from the window and looked at the three of them.

"Did you know Michael?" Missy asked, in hopes of getting me to talk. It felt like it was an hour before I answered.

"Yeah," I replied in a voice barely audible over the sirens.

"Will you at least tell us your name?" Jenna asked in a voice that sounded almost as though she was begging.

"Kimberly Anne Murell," I replied finally, as the ambulance came to a stop.

In a week, I found myself at Smith's Grove, a mental institute. I was placed under the care of a female doctor by the name of Tina Scarret, who annoyingly tried to get me to talk about all the crap that went on around at my house. It use to be that people trying to make me think they actually liked me would make me cry, but now, it was starting to get annoying and was starting to make me mad.

"Kim?" Tina said the first day, after leaving after an hour of trying to get me to talk to her. "How would you like to go to the cafeteria? It's just a place where you could maybe befriend some of the other patients." She paused. "Here, let me help you I don't think you should use your arm just yet-"

But I gave her a cold glare and she faltered. I was sitting on the bed with my back leaning against the wall, my knees up to my chest and my head resting on my knees. I scooted off the bed and stood up using both arms, not wincing once.

I followed my overly-sweet doctor into a vast room, which was full of tables and chairs. The lamps overhead were lit for it was stormy outside - two of the walls were just made of windows.

I headed straight for a deserted table and sat down. I put my head in my arms and sighed. I wondered why these people bothered wasting their time with me. I knew that blonde lady only saved me for the fame, and the doctor only tried to be nice because it was her job.

Then my thoughts fell to Michael. Oh, how it hurt to think about him. It was beyond me why people like him set me up to think they might actually be my friend, only to find out they got a kick out of the way it hurt me.

I heard someone sit down beside me and I sighed silently.

"You don't want to sit by me," I said finally, my voice muffled.

"Sure I do," said a familiar voice. I looked up and my assumption was correct - there sat Michael beside me. "Why are you here?"

I stared at him like he had three heads. "Why do you bother talking to me?" The look he gave me said clearly that he was confused. "I know kids like you... You ones that like to pretend to be my friend... What's the point in acting like you're my friend? It's not like you're going to get an award or anything."

He still looked confused. "I thought I was your friend?"

"You were, but apparently I'm not yours."

"Sure you are... But, you don't have to be," he added quietly, looking away from me. It finally clicked that he was more like me than I knew. It was easy to see that he'd been tricked into thinking that kids were his friends too. I wanted to say something, but I couldn't think of anything to say. He took it the wrong way and stood up.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out, not wanting him to leave. He sat back down, and I sighed inwardly. "I'm sorry, you _are_ my friend, it's just it's so hard to believe people because a lot of them trick me..."

He smiled bitterly. "I know what you mean."

"So, I never answered your question... I'm here because I tried the make a car hit me," I told him in a small voice. He looked at me with alarm. "Why are you here?"

He glanced at me before looking away. It seemed like he was saying that he couldn't tell me. "You can tell me, it can't be any worse than what I did."

He looked down at the table. "I stabbed my sister," he replied slowly. "I killed her."

My eyes were wide. "Why?" He shook his head.

"I don't know. I just felt really mad when she came home... Ms.Blankenship was watching me and Laurie... I went over to our house and grabbed one of the knives in the kitchen. Then I went upstairs and - stabbed her..."

I felt immediately sorry for him, which was a shocker to me because I would have thought I'd feel sorry for his sister. Something in his voice told me he didn't mean to do it. I gave him a side-ways hug to show that somehow I understood, and he grinned slightly.

It was at least twelve years before we "Made it official" that we were a couple. Michael's doctor, Dr.Loomis, had taken a definite interest in the fact that Michael and I were friends. He would let me go into Michael's room for a few hours and let us talk and whatever. He didn't watch us, but I later found out that our two doctors hoped that this would make us more sociable with them.

Somehow Michael was able to open the doors, which showed me that he had to be really strong - the doors only opened from the outside unless you had a key. So we had been talking and messing around for a while without the doctors knowing - he didn't sleep and it took me forever to fall asleep so we'd see each other at night, when no one really checked on us.

I looked up when the door opened, and saw Michael - not that it surprised me. We were both sixteen, so we both looked different than we use to. I looked like a lady, I was thinner than I should have been because I rarely ate, and my hair was down to my lower back. Although I never would have admitted it before, I thought Michael looked cute. His dark golden hair had turned brown, he was much taller, and somehow he had acquired good-looking muscles, considering the fact that there was no place to work out in a sanitarium.

I sat up sleepily, seeing as I was under the covers and trying to go to sleep to no avail.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up." And he truly looked it. I shook my head, yawning.

"You know I can never get to sleep." I scooted over and settled in the corner between the wall and bed, and he sat beside me.

We had been talking and joking for about and hour when it happened. Suddenly, as I was talking, he leaned forward and our lips met. I was totally shocked and left my mouth open in mid-sentence, allowing his tongue entrance to my mouth.

When we pulled away, we were both blushing. He only had a tiny amount of pink on his cheeks, but I could feel my cheeks glowing red. He smiled nervously and I beamed.

I was hit with my tired feeling again. I leaned against his chest and nuzzled my head against his neck. I closed my eyes and eventually drifted asleep.

A few hours later I felt him gently lay me onto the bed. I groaned softly in protest and started to sit up, not wanting him to leave. But there was a soft but firm pressure on my shoulder and I realized he ws restraining me with is hand. A few moments later, I felt his lips brush against mine. I groaned again and rolled over onto my side, trying to stay awake. I felt him pull some strands of hair behind my ear before I heard the door close.

We were both 21 when we "left" the sanitarium. I was sitting on my bed, my legs pulled up against my chest, my elbows on my knees, and my head resting in my hands. Michael opened the door, and I looked up, grinning.

"Come on," Michael said in a gentle manner, trying not to sound impatient. "We're leaving."

"How?" I asked, jumping up. He shook his head. I followed him through a series of hallways, noticing that all the doors were open and the other patients weren't in their rooms.

He led me outside and out the gate, just as we could see headlights in the distance. I wondered vaguely how the other patients had gotten outside.

"Listen, I'm going to steal that car -" Michael began.

"Oh, don't!" I protested.

"It's our only way out of here!" he said in a slightly harsh manner. Something told me he was quickly losing his patience. I lowered my gaze to the ground and mumbled an apology. "Look, just get in the car quickly, or someone could catch us."

His tone was softer this time, so I took it as a quick apology. I looked back up at him and gave him a small smile, before letting go of his hand.

The car slowed to a stop, and Dr.Loomis got out. Michael took his chance and ran over to the car. He jumped up onto the hood and then onto the roof. I heard glass breaking and I gasped slightly.

The car swerved off the road and almost hit a tree. The woman driving jumped out of the car and I took that as my cue. I ran over to the car and jumped in as Michael slammed the driver's side door shut.

I was curious as to where in the world Michael had learned to drive, but I decided against asking. I hoped is nerves were frazzled only because of the whole idea about everything that had happened. I didn't think I did something wrong, but I always seemed to do everything wrong, so it wouldn't have surprised me. I nervously laid my head on his shoulder. He didn't make any protests, so I closed my eyes and fell into an uneasy sleep.

I woke with a start as I heard the car door slam. Michael had apparently left and had now gotten back into the car. I noticed Michael was wearing something different than those stupid hospital gowns. I saw the dried blood on his hands and it clicked that he had killed a guy for his clothes.

"Michael! You didn't have to do that!" Michael gave me a piercing look and I dropped my gaze.

A shiver ran down my spine as he gently took a hold of my chin and turned my head so that I was facing him. I avoided his gaze, feeling bad for making him feel guilty. I didn't mean to make him guilty; it just reminded me of how my mom exploded about the smallest of things. And I definitely didn't like remembering that.

His lips pressed against mine and I parted them. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the kiss, accepting his apology.

We pulled away and I grinned sleepily, still feeling tired. I laid my head in Michael's lap, trying to stretch out as best as I could. I closed my eyes and felt Michael pull a few strands of hair behind my ear. He ran his fingers through my hair a few times before I heard him start the car.

"Where are we?" I asked, yawning. Michael had pulled the car into a driveway and had gently shaken me awake.

"My old house," Michael replied. I blinked a few times before opening the car door.

"How in the world you remember the way here is beyond me," I mumbled, walking over and standing by him. I still felt tired, and I knew I could never fall asleep the next night. "You're gonna have to carry me in, I'm too tired." I leaned my head on his shoulder.

"You're insane."

"You're just now noticing this?" He pretended to give me a harsh look, but ruined it by grinning.

"Come on. It doesn't look like they've moved much."

"But Michael, I'm tired," I whined. He must have been in a good mood; otherwise I probably would have made him mad, even though I was only messing with him.

"So? There might be a bed somewhere in there," Michael replied, his smile growing larger.

"But I' too tired, I can't make it that far," I protested, but I was starting to grin as well.

I let out a small scream as Michael picked and started carrying me to the house. "Put me down! I squealed, playfully punching him on the chest.

"But you said I'll have to carry you," Michael replied innocently, easily opening the door and carrying me at the same time.

I finally gave up struggling and settled against his chest, laughing at how stupid I felt.

I woke up the next morning in a good mood. I nuzzled my head against Michael's chest before looking up at him. His eyes were closed and I noted his breathing had slowed slightly.

"Can he possibly be asleep?" I asked myself in a barely audible voice. I slowly got up, taking great care not to wake him.

I went over to the dresser, hoping someone had left something. I opened the top drawer, but it was empty. The second contained men's shirts, the third women's pants, and the fourth men's pants.

"Of _course_. No underwear, and no shirts," I muttered. I grabbed a t-shirt that read _Do the Dew _and a pair of jeans. I quickly changed, feeling very embarrassed to do so in the same room as a guy. I walked over to my side of the bed before plopping down on it.

"Wake up Mikey!"

"Remind me why I brought you along?" he joked.

"Because you love me." I leaned over like I was going to kiss him, but I knocked my forehead against his instead.

Michael got up and started for the door. "And where do you think you're going?" He glanced at me before looking away. I knew that look - it was the one he used when he told me he'd killed his sister. "Oh, Michael, don't! Leave the poor thing alone!"

"I have to," he replied bluntly. I got up and walked over to him.

"What's this bullshit about 'I have to kill her'?" I put a hand on his shoulder. "You know you're not like that. You don't have to."

He gave me an icy look. I didn't drop my gaze this time, but my vision slowly blurred with tears. He jerked his shoulder away from my hand and then left the room.

A few minutes later, I heard the door slam and then the car drive off. I sighed, feeling a tear trickle down my cheek.

"Why?" I asked the empty room, as several more tears rolled down my cheeks. "He knows that's not him. But why does he do it?"

Michael still hadn't returned when darkness fell. I wondered if I had really done it this time.

I heard a car pull into the driveway and then the door to the house open and close. I was checking out my reflection in the mirror, when I heard voices. I froze, listening to the voices as they grew louder.

Michael's old doctor, Dr.Loomis, and a sheriff passed by the doorway. I drew in a deep breath and let it out as a quiet sob. I stood up and then collapsed on the bed. I cried into one of the pillows. I just knew one of the two would catch me, and then I'd never see Michael again... '_Not like he even cares_' I thought bitterly. This only caused me to cry harder.

I heard a smash and I gasped. I stopped sobbing and listened.

"You must see me a very sinister doctor," I heard Dr.Loomis say. "Oh, I have a permit."

"Seems to me you're just plain scared," the sheriff replied.

"Yes - yeah, I am." Dr.Loomis paused. "I met him 15 years ago - I was told there was nothing left, no reason, no conscious, no understanding, and even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, of good or evil, right or wrong. I met this 6-year-old child, with this blank, pale, emotionless face, the blackest eyes - the devils eyes. I spent eight years trying to reach him, and then another seven years trying to keep him locked up because I realized what was hidden behind that boys eyes was purely and simply evil... He's been here once tonight. I think he'll come back... I'm going to wait for him."

"I still think I should notify the radio and tell them - "

"No. If you do that, they'll see him on every street corner - look for him in every house. Just tell your men to keep their mouths shut and their eyes open."

"I'll check back in an hour."

"Oh, sheriff, would you mind leaving me your handcuffs?"

"Why?"

"If Michael's been here, Kimberly must be around as well. She's the only thing he cares about - she's the key. If we find her, we'll find Michael."

"All right. But don't do anything irrational, doctor. You know as well as I do she's considered pretty much an innocent bystander in this whole mess."

'_Oh god! They're going to use me to get to Michael!_ ' I jumped up and started to look out into the hallway, but flattened myself against the wall.

The sheriff passed the room, then I heard him go down the stairs and go outside. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. But it was no use. Tears streamed down my face just as heavily as before.

I knew I would never see Michael again. If Dr.Loomis caught me, and Michael fell for the trap, they would surely lock him up for good - or worse, they might even kill him. If by some miracle I could escape from the sheriff and Dr.Loomis, I had no way of letting Michael know where I was.

I quickly snuck out into the hallway. But as I started down the stairs, I heard quick footsteps. I started to run down the stairs. But, halfway down I stumbled, then fell the rest of the way down.

As I crawled to my hands and knees, I heard Dr.Loomis yell, "Stop!" I looked up and saw he had a gun pointed straight at me.

He quickly made his way down the stairs and soon had my hands cuffed behind my back. The door opened and the sheriff stepped in, just as I fell on my side and started crying again.

"Good lord!" The sheriff said, spotting me. I decided to try my luck with the sheriff, hoping he was more compassionate than the doctor.

"Please don't kill Michael," I begged. The sheriff knelt down beside me.

"Listen, nobody's killing anybody," the sheriff tried to reassure me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"_Liar!_" I screamed, causing the sheriff to jerk his hand away in surprise. "Liar." I fell onto my stomach and cried even harder, repeatedly saying "I'm sorry."

"I'm not so sure I can let you do this, Loomis," the sheriff said. "This girl is obviously stressed out by this whole situation."

"She is the key!" Dr.Loomis shouted. "Without her, we'll never get to him! It's exactly what she wants - it's all just an act!"

Dr.Loomis was smarter than I thought. Most of it was just an act, but the tears were real, and so was my desperation.

I could tell the sheriff was fighting between the want to capture Michael and the want to calm a 'victim'. "All right," he said slowly. "But if she changes my mind, I _will_ take her back to the station and call the sanitarium and have someone pick her up."

I looked up as two kids ran screaming from a house. We had been walking for at an hour - Dr.Loomis had given up waiting and decided to look for Michael. He still had me handcuffed and made me go with him.

He grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me, heading swiftly toward the house. He pulled his pistol from an inside pocket on his coat as we stepped inside the house.

I looked as he pulled me up the stairs. A blonde teenager, undoubtedly Laurie, was being strangled by a masked Michael.

"Michael!" Dr.Loomis shouted. I saw Michael glance at us, then turn his head, noticing me. He had obviously loosened his grip for Laurie wasn't being choked as bad. "Michael, if you leave Laurie, you can have Kimberly."

Michael abruptly let go and took step toward us. "Michael, no!" I yelled. But it was too late. Dr.Loomis pushed me aside and then fired a shot at Michael. It hit him in the chest, causing him to stumble into the room behind him.

Dr.Loomis ran to the doorway. He fired five more shots, and seconds later, I heard a thud. "_Michael_!" I screamed. I turned and ran the stairs. I rounded the corner and a bullet sent a piece of wood flying.

I ran outside to find Michael alive, even standing. He jerked his head, telling me to follow him. I ran over to him, and then followed him at a quick pace, my head spinning.

Dr.Loomis had shot him six times, he'd fallen off of a two-story balcony, and he was definitely bleeding. I had no idea how he could survive that, and it scared me slightly.

When we got several blocks away, he stopped.

"Let me get those," Michael offered. I gave him a small smile before turning around. There was a crunch as he broke the chain that connected the cuffs. I turned back around and held out my hands. He broke the cuffs off and tossed the remnants aside.

I threw my arms around him, hugging him tightly and crying. I stepped back quickly a moment later, remembering his bullet wounds.

"I'm sorry," I told him, wiping my eyes. He shook his head.

"It doesn't hurt."

"Not just that. I'm sorry for everything. I guess I shouldn't have after you like that. If you have to do it, I suppose I'll have to live with that."

"No, it's not your fault. I shouldn't be mad at you for what _I_ do."

"Oh, you can be so sweet," I replied, smiling. I stood on tiptoe and reached up; taking off the white mask he was wearing. I kissed him deeply, praying silently he wouldn't want to finish off Laurie.

We broke apart several moments later, hearing sirens. An ambulance came speeding up the street, undoubtedly taking Laurie to the hospital. Michael seemed transfixed; staring down the street even after the ambulance had disappeared.

"Oh, Michael, you can't _really_ be thinking about going back after her?" He looked at me and I searched his dark eyes for an answer. I could tell he was torn between the thought of losing me and his insane need to kill. "Please, I thought I lost you once, but I got lucky. I don't want to lose you for real next time."

"I have to, he replied. "I'm sorry."

I choked out a sigh and shook my head. "If you have to, I suppose you have to." I wiped my eyes again, wishing I would stop crying. "But I'm coming with you. At least then I could distract them or something - give you a chance to get away."

"No. If something happens, you run," Michael replied, picking up his mask that I'd thrown to the side.

"And what if I don't?" I tried to sound confident and serious, and for a moment, I did.

"Then, I will have to find some place where they can't find you, and you will stay there."

"I won't stay wherever you take me, and I will them if I want to. You can't make me do what you want me to," I replied, wishing I felt as set on it as I sounded.

"I can, and I will," he replied calmly. That scared me. If he could survive what had happened to him already, I knew he could force me stay away if he wanted.

"Michael, please," I faltered under his gaze, but I knew I had to try. "You know they don't want to kill me, they wouldn't bother wasting bullets on me..."

"Exactly. They don't want you, so they will not be distracted by you. Or worse, they could even get rid of you to keep you from distracting them."

I tried the last thing I could of; my hurt eyes. It really did hurt me about the thought of actually running away if Michael got into some kind of trouble. It affected him to some degree, for he avoided my gaze.

"You either run if something happens, or you stay behind."

I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest. "Talk about tough love," I muttered, lowering my gaze to the ground and smiling bitterly. "Fine, I'll run if it gets too bad."

"Are you sure? I am not going to let you be taken back there or killed because you were trying to save me."

I felt a searing emotional pain as I nodded. "But what if-?"

"I thought you agreed?"

"Michael, I understand that it would hurt you severely if something happened to me. It would hurt me just as badly if they killed you. Then what would I have to look forward to in life - living in a mental hospital until the day that I die?" I threw my arms up in mock happiness. "No, I'd love that much more than living a slightly normal life with the person I love!"

He pulled me close to him and held me, and I gladly cried into his chest. "Don't say that."

"But it's the truth!" I managed. "If they find you, they'll lock up for good, or even kill you. And then all I'll have is some shitty little room in the loony bin, where I'll live until I'm eighty, when I'll finally die because my doctor annoyed me to death because she thought that she'll have a heart attack if I don't talk to her!"

I could tell he was trying not to laugh because of my idiocy, which caused me to laugh too. I stepped back, still laughing at how weird I was. "And now I'm going crazy, laughing while you are killing me. No wonder why they think I belong there!"

"You are already crazy," Michael replied, laughing as well. He gently took hold of my chin and tilted my face up so that I was looking into his eyes.

"Nothing is going to happen," he promised.

"I wish I could believe you," I replied, looking away.

I gasped, causing the marshal to look up. But I had already jerked myself out of view. I heard Laurie scream and I just had to look.

Michael had slit the marshals throat. Dr.Loomis and Laurie turned down a hallway and took off, while Michael merely got up and started after them at a walk.

I hesitated in following. Michael wanted me to stay toward the front so I could get away easily, just in case. But, watching someone bleed profusely went on my list of '_Things Don't Want to Do_' somewhere before '_Sitting in a Tub Full of Scissors_'.

I followed way behind, taking great care to keep away from the dead body and out of sight. A few hallways away, I heard two gunshots. I paused for a minute, wondering if I should run the other way. I went ahead anyway. I didn't know if Michael considered "something going wrong" as gunshots.

I rounded the corner in time to see Laurie run out of a back room, and then the room exploded. I let out an ear-piercing scream. A burning figure, who I know could only be Michael, came staggering out form the flames.

I ran toward him, only to have Laurie grab my ankle, causing me to trip and fall. I lifted my face up in time to see Michael fall to his knees, then fall forward to the ground. The knife had fallen out of his hand, and I knew he wasn't faking. He really was dead.

I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, I couldn't do anything. I just lay there, watching the flames dancing. Moments later, I heard sirens and slamming doors. Firefighters brought in a hose and sprayed the remnants of the back room.

Seconds later, a police man helped me up. I followed behind him numbly, not really registering what I was doing. It wasn't until the policeman requested my doctor be sent down to retrieve me over the radio, did something click.

'_He's not dead_' was my first thought. I started to desperately imagine someone telling me that he wasn't dead. But he wouldn't scare me like this, no matter how much he wanted to kill Laurie. Or would he? He wasn't normal anymore. He use to be so sweet, and now he hated me for the simplest of reasons. I had to see.

"Let me see him," I said in a faint voice.

"Excuse me?" asked the cop.

"Let me see him," I repeated in a louder tone.

"I'm sorry, but I can't-"

"I want to see him!" I yelled. "I want to see him! Let me _see him_!"

"All right, all right. I'm just saying that it may not be pretty."

I ran straight over to an ambulance and saw him on the stretcher. His clothes were tattered with large burn holes, the hair of the mask was burnt off, and the mask itself was melted in several places.

"You said nothing would happen." I grabbed his burnt hand and held it. "You said nothing would happen! You promised!" I closed my eyes and finally started crying.

For a moment it felt like he was gripping my hand as well. But the feeling was so very faint, I was surprised I even felt it. I opened my eyes hopefully. But his eyes were still closed and he didn't appear to be breathing.

I lay there, staring upwards at the white ceiling, letting the night of Michael's death play in my mind endlessly. I felt dead, unable to move a hand or foot. I frequently lay in that stupid bed for hours, feeling unable to move.

The nurses and doctors had been very kind. I hated the kindness I hated more than anything; the false voices they put on. The false cheerfulness that grated; the false sorrow that grated even worse. How i they /i be sorry, when they had a life outside of the stupid infirmary?

The door opened, but I ignored it.

"Kimberly? Would you like to go out of your room today? Maybe go to the rec. room or the cafeteria?" It was my doctor, the same one I'd had when I first got there.

'_Oh, go to hell_' I thought bitterly.

"Listen, I know today is October 30th, but I really think you need to get out of your room." She waited for a moment, before I heard her sigh. "Well, if you feel like getting out, you know to call for me." She left and I took a deep breath, willing myself not to cry.

But it didn't work. As let out the breath, tears started to slide down my cheeks. I wondered how much longer I could put up with this. Tomorrow would mark ten years since he died, and I was shocked I had made it this.

I rolled onto my side, staring out the window, hating the day. It was clear blue and sunny outside - a complete mockery of how I felt. How could the world be so happy when I felt so miserable?

I was still awake when I heard shouting outside. I stood up curiously, and I started toward the door. I froze as it opened.

"Miss me?" someone asked in a cocky tone. My mind started reeling. Michael was dead, yet here he stood. I was bursting about the fact that he was alive, yet I was slightly scared that someone could survive all that.

My legs gave out and I started to fall, but he caught me before I hit the tiled floor. That was the last thing I remembered for a while.

When I opened my eyes again, I was inside of a truck, leaning against Michael with my head resting on his shoulder.

My mind was completely blank - I couldn't think of anything to say.

"Where are we?" I asked finally.

"In a truck," he replied like a smart-ass.

"No, I thought we were in a tree," I said sarcastically, smiling. There were a few moments of silence as I noticed something eerie. His face and hands were almost completely unscathed. He just had a small scar over his left eye. "What happened back there - at the hospital?"

"I don't really know. I got the door open, and Laurie basically shot me in the eyes."

"Okay, now how the hell can you see where you're going?" He shrugged. "Okay, now you're seriously starting to scare the heck outta me." I paused. "Wait, do you even _have_ eyes anymore?"

"Now what kind of question is that?"

"Well, I'm sorry. No offence or anything, but can a normal person survive all the shit youve been through?" I sighed and looked for the right words. "Listen to me, I'm already starting a fight. It would have been better if you'd had just left me there when you first escaped." I leaned against the door instead. "I'm suck a freakin' jackass."

"No, you're not. I know I'm not normal. I'm way past that, but it doesn't bother me. I don't blame you for being a little creeped out."

I shook my head, tears welling up in my eyes as I stared out the window. "It's not your fault. It's mine. Why else do you think my mother and everyone else around me hates me so much? I'm always doing something wrong, I can't do anything right."

By the reflection in the window, I saw him shake his head. He reached out a hand, leaving the other on the steering wheel. But I flinched away, just knowing that I didn't deserve his touch. Heck, I knew that I didn't deserve him, or any of this. I deserved to be stuck at that hospital, though.

He put his hand back on the steering wheel and sighed. Now I was even angrier at myself. After all, it wasn't his fault that I was like this. Yet, here I was, shunning him.

I sat up and turned to face him, yet I couldn't quite look at him. "I'm sorry," I managed finally.

"It's not your fault. You have nothing to be sorry about," he said as I leaned my head against his shoulder. He put his arm around my shoulders, so I nuzzled my head against his chest.

"You know, it's not safe to drive with one hand."

"It's also unsafe to not wear a seat belt."

"Speak for yourself," I shot back, but smiling slightly. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep; the sound of his steady heartbeat slightly soothing.

I spun around, hearing a twig snap. I was walking down the sidewalk, trying to 'pick out' a house.

I nearly broke down then and there as I felt my baby kick for the first time. I put a hand on my stomach and smiled down at my visible "baby bump". I was happy to know that my not eating due to ignorance hadn't harmed the baby.

I walked up the walkway of the nearest house, taking a deep breath; preparing to run if who ever lived there knew who I was. I rang the doorbell, and a few minutes later, an old woman answered the door.

"Oh, hello, little miss," the old woman said. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?"

"Oh, I apologize. I'm Kim, Kim Murrel." I paused, waiting for her to threaten to call the cops. "I know I don't know you, but I have no where else to turn. You see, I'm five months pregnant and I have no where to go." I felt awkward and just plain weird announcing that.

"Oh, you poor thing. Come in, come in," the woman said, stepping back. I followed the old woman into her Living Room. She took a seat in an armchair while I sat down on the edge of her couch, ready to spring up and run if she said she watched the news or read the newspaper. "I'm Martha Lynne, by the way... I don't mean to get in your business, but did the baby's father leave you?"

I felt the familiar twinge of emotional pain in my heart. "You could say that... You don't happen to watch the TV or read the Newspaper, do you?"

"No. You know, the news can get so depressing! Lately you can't hardly ever watch it that there hasn't been someone hurt or killed... ... Would you like something - tea, coffee, anything?"

"Tea, would be nice," I replied in a quiet voice, looking around the living room. She stood up and headed for the kitchen. "Would you like any help?"

"No, you just stay here and rest." I stood up and walked around, looking at the pictures hung over the walls. "Speaking of the news, have you heard about that Michael Myers?"

I dropped the knick-knack I was looking at. "Yes - Yeah. As I matter of fact, I have. They - I heard that they killed him." The knick-knacks made clicking noises as I set the one I was holding back on the table with his buddies, my hands trembling badly.

"Really? How did they manage to do that?" she asked, coming back into the living room and placing a tray onto the coffee table. "Biscuit?"

"Thanks," I replied, sitting back down on the couch. "... I heard they shot him until he fell into a mineshaft. Then they threw dynamite into the mineshaft to make sure he was dead."

"Are you okay, dear?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you just seem to be shaking and you look a little pale."

I sat on Mrs.Lynne's front porch swing, holding a sleeping Gracey. The swing creaked occasionally, but it was quiet otherwise.

I gasped, as a man stepped onto the porch. I couldn't believe my eyes - I had completely no idea how he had survived his latest injuries.

Michael sat down beside me on the swing and we kissed, our tongues exploring each others mouth hungrily. When we broke apart, I rested my chest and he put his arm around my shoulders.

"Who is this?" he asked, referring to Gracey.

"Dad, meet daughter. Daughter, meet dad," I replied, smiling. I could tell he was shocked. I sat up straight. "Here, you hold her. You haven't gotten to." I carefully handed Gracey to Michael.

He held her with a slight awkwardness. I could tell he never thought of being in the father position. I leaned my head against his shoulder, watching Gracey sleep peacefully in his arms. I could feel my broken heart slowly started to mend itself once more.

I closed my eyes as the guy pushed me up against the wall and attempted to kiss me. I never fought back anymore, I didn't feel a need to. A tear slid out form under my eyelid as the guy started to lift up my shirt.

But a second later, the weight of the man had disappeared. I opened my eyes to find that Michael had thrown the man against the opposite wall.

My gaze fell to the ground and I walked off without a word of thanks. It hurt so badly to walk away, but I knew I had to, because it hurt him just as badly.

When I got to my room, six-year-old Gracey was still asleep. I sighed, then felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked over my shoulder, to find it was Michael. I went into the room and shut the door in his face.

"Mommy?" Gracey had woken up, and was now rubbing her eyes. "Hey mom, can I go visit daddy?"

I froze for a moment, absorbing this new blow. She had recently started asking for Michael, and was started to spend more time with him than me.

"Um, sure," I replied after a moment. "Come on."

She jumped up fairly quickly and came straight to my side. I picked her up and exited the room. I found him pretty quickly.

"Gracey wanted to see you," I said, offering a pained smile as I handed her over.

"Thanks... Kim, I'm so sorry-"

"I found you because Gracey wanted to be with you. We've been over this, there's nothing left to discuss - especially not in front of Gracey. What's done is done, and nothing can change it... no matter how much I wish it's all just a nightmare" I interrupted. "Bye Gracey." I gave her a kiss on the cheek before turning to leave, with tears streaming down my face.

As I walked away, I heard Gracey as Michael, "Daddy, why are you and mommy fighting?" I felt bad because I knew it was so hard for her. She loved us both, and she obviously wanted us to be happy.

But there was not way I could forgive him. Could I? I'm not sure about other people, but I'd say the fact that he cheated on me was unforgivable.

In a way, I could tell he didn't mean it by the way it seemed to hurt him so badly. But the fact still remained that he cheated on me. He didn't have to - and with poor Jamie at that!

He blames it all on the cult who gave him the "Curse of the Thorn". The curse that forces him to kill people. I wanted so desperately to believe him, but a part of me wouldn't allow it.

I sighed, smiling slightly down at a sleeping Gracey. But my heart wasn't it.

I looked up as I heard a knock the doorway. I saw that it was Michael yet again. My smile quickly turned into a frown.

I stood up the covers up better over Gracey. I walked out the hallway and leaned against the wall as he closed the door softly. I glanced at him before staring at the floor. I just couldn't look at him; even that seemed to hurt.

"Kim, I - I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am," Michael began. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

"If you're so sorry, then why did you do it in the first place?" I asked. He cupped my cheek with his hand. But I closed my eyes tighter, trying not to give in to my feelings for him.

"Kim, you know I hate to see you like this. I hate it even more that I caused it... Please forgive me."

My weak walls caved in, I couldn't help it. I turned and pressed my lips against his, and kissed him fiercely. After we broke apart, I hugged tightly.

"Just promise me you won't ever do that again," I begged.

"I promise." I prayed he would keep his promise. I wasn't sure how much more of this I could take.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean - he was -"

"Save it. You have no idea what it's like to be me, and I have no idea what's it's like to go through. But either way, someone loses," I reply quietly, glancing up at Sara. I look over at the body bag, but quickly tear my gaze away like it hurt. And truthfully, it did.

"You really loved him, didn't you?" she asks, looking as well.

"Like I said, you have no idea," I reply. I look at Gracey as she stirs.

"Mommy? Is daddy gonna be okay?" she asks groggily.

"Oh, of - of course, sweetie. He's going to be just - just fine. Now go to sleep, baby. You know it's way past your bedtime," I tell her softly. She smiles sleepily before leaning her head against my chest and going back to sleep.

There is no way I can tell Gracey that Michael is dead. I know he has been set on fire before, but this time it's different. Something in my heart tells me this time he isn't going to come back. I have never had this feeling before, so I have little choice but to believe it.

Maybe I'm just getting stronger after all these years. I know I'll need to be stronger this time if he really is gone this time. I still cant believe Ive come all this way from a six-year-old child wanting nothing more than to die, to this. Sometimes I wonder if its worth it; falling in love with a man to scare me shitless every time it seems as though hes dead, only to come back about a year later. I think its worth it, but sometimes its hard to think it is.

Or maybe I'm imagining all of this and he'll show up around Halloween a year or so down the road. But, until then, I'm sticking to what my heart tells me.

All I can do now is hope my heart is wrong about this.


End file.
